


Exploitation

by agentz123



Series: Who is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera? [6]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Ambiguous Plot, Angst, Come Over My Parents Aren’t Home, Conflicting Feelings, Do you feel that spark?, Donsy and Fendra are elite, F/M, FOWL, Fenton is Just Confused, Fenton is a sweetheart, Gandra is FOWL, Gen, HC: Gandra has some type of tragic backstory, Honestly girl just get your bag, Inspired by tumblr Artwork, Internal Conflict, Intimacy, Mandra is Not a Thing, No Spoilers to S3’s “Beaks in the Shell!”, Science, Slight fluff, Small “Animaniacs” Reference, Spy - Freeform, Take it How You Please, ambiguous ending, fendra - Freeform, preening, redemption (?), sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123
Summary: Something F.O.W.L. is afoot at M’ma Cabrera’s house.
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera & Gandra Dee, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera & M’ma Cabrera, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gandra Dee, Gandra Dee & Bradford Buzzard, Gandra Dee & Mark Beaks, Gandra Dee/Mark Beaks (?)
Series: Who is Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera? [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030281
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Exploitation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, I had written a majority of this while DT was on hiatus. Because we didn’t really know where Gandra’s plot line was going, I left it up for everyone to decide. Therefore there are no spoilers to “Beaks in the Shell!”, and you can read safely :)

_”Agent Dee. Your mission is to get into F. Crackshell-Cabrera’s home. Find any of that blathering idiot’s weaknesses. There’s got to be some under that overpowered—“_

“Suit.”

Although Fenton was utterly exhausted from a demanding night of patrol, he hadn’t even waited for the Gizmosuit to completely disassemble before answering his phone. Why would Gandra be calling so late? After so long? Was she in trouble? In danger? Did she need help?

Maybe she was tired of Mark Beaks…?

He shook his head in an attempt to dissipate those feelings. It could’ve never worked out between them; even though she brilliantly solved the last equation for Fentonium (and he had planned on giving her half of the patent rights, once all the kinks were ironed out), their ~~date~~ ~~flirtation~~ _professional meeting of the minds_ had went horribly wrong, what with all of his secret identity being revealed and Mark Beaks kidnapping his good friends and having to untie their dinner and whatnot.

But that spark!

Gandra pulled her phone away from her ear in confusion. She was sure the call had gone through, but—

“Ah, yes! Hi!” She smirked, glad she had enough sense to distance herself from his excited squeaking. “Was...are you okay? How are you? The weather’s nice, huh. Smells a bit like rain though.” Fenton had begun pacing nervously, forgetting that the bottom half of the suit was still on. His wheel ran over a loose Erylmeyer flask, and the increased weight caused the equipment to break, and consequently, the tire to pop. He fell flat on his face, getting tangled in the rope of the Gluteal Grapple that shot out in his eagerness. He really needed to learn how to focus when he had the suit on…

“Mind if I come over for a while?”

Fenton wriggled out of the suit, narrowly avoiding a trail of Elbow Grease. “I MYSELF don’t mind,” he panted. “But this is my mother’s house and...“

“Well, isn’t she working late tonight?”

Fenton thought for a moment before his eyes brightened. “Actually, yes, yes she—wait. How did you know that?”

Gandra cursed internally. _Do not blow this mission!_ “Erm, lucky guess. So, can I come in? Seems like you left your front door unlocked.”

“What?” The duck scrambled into the living room, where he found his ex (was he allowed to call her that?) casually fooling around with an old 3D photo crystal Fenton had made for a Mother’s Day oh so long ago. He cleared his throat and attempted to look menacing. “Well, if you’re here to get more intel on the Giz— _you know what,”_ he quickly dropped his voice before continuing. “Then you might as well go back to wherever you came from! Outside. In...in my bushes, or whatever.”

Gandra chuckled before settling on the sofa. “I’m not here for the Gizmosuit. I’m here for you.”

The duck dropped his hands in embarrassment. “Oh. Right. You…?” She actually liked him for him. Still? “Would you like something to drink?” He did an awkward shuffle into the threshold separating the living room from the kitchen. “We have water. Cold and room temperature. Personally I enjoy mine at 85 degrees Celsius. Helps with brain stimulation and is just wonderful on a chilly day. Oh, and there’s juice. Apple, orange, mango—“

“Suit,” Gandra whistled in an attempt to drag his attention away from the fridge. She patted the empty spot next to her on the worn loveseat. He quickly joined her in order to conceal his wagging tail, and in his hurry he accidentally placed his hand on top of hers. 

There it was again, that spark!

Fenton quickly took his hand away. 

“Oh...you’ve got...um. It seems that some of the consequences of static electricity has…” Fenton gestured to his hair. 

Gandra tilted her head in confusion before turning towards a stainless piece of glass and glaring at her distorted reflection. She must’ve short-circuited or, or the Suit overloaded the motherboard when he applied that unexpected contact. Yes, that makes perfect sense. “Ah, yes. I’m still trying to iron out the kinks of my nanites. Don’t give me that look, you had to have known that I’m not perfect, despite how much SMARTER I am than you.” Her grin dropped as she patted her pockets. She had forgotten her brush. Was that on purpose…? Yes, of course. She snatched up Fenton and flirtatiously yanked him closer. “Can you help me?” Men always fell for that helpless victim act. Especially those who ran around in a hunk of a garbage can trying to help old ladies cross the street.

Shocked, Fenton lowered himself down into one of his mother’s many throw pillows. Immediately Gandra plopped down into his lap and leaned her head against his chest. “You want me to...to preen you?” 

“I didn’t think you owned a brush, Suit.” She was right; he meant to get one, he really did, but the chore always slipped his mind.

Gandra closed her eyes, half-hoping he would reveal something in such an intimate setting. 

Half-hoping he didn’t. 

Fenton gently took a feather and held it in between his index and middle fingers. It was blacker than night but as warm as the sun. His heart thundered in his chest as he pricked through her hair and he found a particular strand that didn’t want to stay down. 

Just like he had. Except just a little more endearing. 

Gandra was like him in more ways than one, he realized.

He gave her a shy peek on the cheek and wrapped his wings around her waist. Her eyes flew open and she was met with an analysis. She couldn’t really read into it that much, thanks to his profound chestnut eyes. She never noticed how...sad they looked. Did hers ever look like that? She was almost tempted to ask but he started rambling, his cheeks a bright pink. “I’m sorry,” he said, muffled, her feathers still in his beak. “Was that okay? It’s just that...I don’t usually initiate contact like that and maybe you’re not in the mood or it wasn’t RIGHT or—“

She caressed his thigh and his run-on screeched to a halt. “It was perfect.”

He continued to preen her, but she noted how he trembled underneath her. She wouldn’t possibly be able to get any information out of him like this. “Would you like me to do you?”

“...erm…” his brain melted and froze over as he pulled away. “W-what?”

“Preen you, stupid,” she chuckled. 

“I—“ He knew a lot of his feathers were probably tangled thanks to sitting in the suit all night, but he didn’t want her to think that he was unkempt.

“Sheesh, we should just get started already. Some of them are getting ruffled as we speak.” Her glove streaked through his messy feathers, and a small moan escaped her beak. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” She adjusted her position so that his head rested on her thighs. “Just shut up and relax.”

“Hm. Whatever you say.”

Gandra felt his slurring vocal chords send vibrations up her spine. She shook off the feeling as she continued digging, pulling back layers and hoping to find some sort of flaw within him. 

“Nothing.”

She leaned over to steal another glance at his eyes, but she noticed how they were twitching. He had a weird expression on his face, too. For some reason he was biting the lower part of his bill and wiggling his eyebrows? “What the heck are you doing.”

“You...you make me weak, Gandra. But not in a tiring, exhausting way! It’s just, I don’t know. I’m just some crazy idiot in love, I guess. I’ve been thinking A LOT about you ever since our...meeting. I’m not quite sure what that actually means, however; I’ve never really felt this way about someone else before. I don’t have any knowledge in this area.” Fenton gently pulled away and curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, clutching a pillow and scrutinizing the fibers in the carpet. 

Perfect. 

“Would you like to conduct an experiment?”

“H-how do you mean?”

“We could...conjugate.”

Fenton jumped up, taking both of her wings in his. She allowed herself to be pulled up. “Oh! I do believe I have some hydrogen cyanide in the fridge as well!”

“No, Suit. I was talking about—wait, you keep acid in the _kitchen?”_

“Temporarily.” There was a sheepish chuckle. “The metal cabinet I keep in my bedroom is severely dented. I can barely get it to open.”

Gandra rolled her eyes as she stomped to his bedroom. She was sure it was nothing a little dent popper couldn’t fix...

A small gasp spilled out of her chest. “Why is this cabinet crumpled into a ball?”

“Right.” He was kinda cute when he blushed. Kinda. “I was testing out a new feature for the...well, you know. The magnification levels I set had too much power.” 

Gandra rolled her eyes, choosing to restrain herself from informing the weirdo that they were the only ones here. Well, physically, anyway. Who knows if Bradford allowed Black Heron and Steelbeak to join the feed, just to humiliate her. “You really are serious about helping people, huh?”

“Well, yeah. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

“Even those who are a lost cause?”

“I don’t believe in lost causes. Every problem has a solution!”

His passion was uncontrollably spreading, like a forest fire or an infection disease. But for some reason, Gandra wanted to burn. She wanted to get sick. 

She needed to complete her mission.

She loosened his tie and tugged on the longer end. She could hear the softness of the polyester as it slid underneath his wrinkled collar. 

“Gandra, I—“

“Sh,” she cooed softly, undoing the jacket that sat around her waist before pushing him onto his bed and shoving her beak into his.

* * *

“Suit?”

No response.

“Fenton?”

Gandra momentarily wondered if she snores as well.

She sat up, feeling...feeling like a scumbag. How could she have possibly done that? The things he had hazily told her, sitting there and running his fingers through her hair as she sent small shocks up and down his skin. Funny things. Smart things. Sweet things. Intimate things. All while she sat there and recorded everything. Every single minute of it. 

Sure, her mission was to sleep with the enemy, but...

Did she actually have feelings for this man? After all F.O.W.L. had ever done for her? Took her in, shared her goals, funded her. 

Never called her a crackpot.

A crook. 

Was any of this worth it? Any of it? 

She looked over at Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera’s sleeping frame, and came to a single conclusion:

She did not want to do this anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was inspired by tumblr's donaldtheduckdad. Thanks for the opportunity my friend! 
> 
> Go check out their amazing work! Here is the link to the fanart: https://donaldtheduckdad.tumblr.com/post/633804431550545920/too-tired-to-work-on-my-other-wips-so-have-some


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